


Dexterous

by facetofcathy



Series: Jack Climbs in the Window [2]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: Comment Fic, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-14
Updated: 2010-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facetofcathy/pseuds/facetofcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:  POTC, Sparrington, "hands off" -- Jack's not allowed to use his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dexterous

Jamie liked his rules. He liked his laws and his decrees and his edicts. It was quite possible Jamie liked them all as much as Jack liked his rum. The thing about Jamie's rules, though, the thing that set them apart from most people's, was that he liked keeping them as much as he liked making them. And the dear love did like to make them.

Jack could play along, keep himself inside Jamie's lines. When it suited him.

He preened a little in the flattering gilt of the afternoon sun, enjoying Jamie's reactions. He waited until he had the man's full attention and then stepped into the shadows at the foot of the bed. Jamie rose from his fetching pose against the linens and leaned forward for a better view.

Jamie, ever the gracious host, had let Jack strip naked before he'd imposed his condition. Jack, ever the polite guest, had complied, seeing as how Jamie had already achieved that delightful state by the time Jack had arrived. It suited him, this day, to play by the house rules.

When the breeze set the mosquito netting to fluttering between them, he set his hands to fluttering in a move he'd cadged from a Balinese dancer he'd had the pleasure of knowing during an adventure in the Dutch East Indies. Jamie scrambled forward and snatched at the netting; he was close enough to touch, if only Jack were permitted. Jack's hands came to light behind his back and he grasped his left wrist with his right hand. He tilted his head and watched Jamie watching him. That was a hungry glint in his eye, or Jack was no judge of men.

"If you were wanting me mouth, James, you only had to say," Jack said and sank to his knees on Jamie's rich carpets, not Persian, like Jamie no doubt believed, but Indian, if Jack was any judge of the things men coveted, and he was of course, a very fine judge of men and their desires.

"If you think you're not up to the challenge, Jack, you only have to say," James countered. He made ready to rise up off the bed and cover all that delicious nakedness, and he was stubborn enough to do it, was Jamie. Damn the man, and the British Navy; Jack was having none of that.

"You've not set the bar too high," Jack said. He was of the firm opinion that the higher the bar, the easier it was to wriggle under it. Jack nodded to the bed in front of him. "Sit a while and let me get the measure of you."

"You do look comfortable down there," James said, sly little smile on his lips.

"Oh, I am, just the place for me, this is." Jack waited for James to settle himself, long legs dangling over the edge of the bed and spread wide like any wanton sailor on leave in disreputable ports. It had take many more than one trip to Jamie's highly reputable bed chamber to bring the man to be so free with his body. Jack had been thinking of late that his Jamie was plotting against the day Jack fixed his eyes on something shiny and new, what with Jamie himself now well and truly caught and no longer a challenge. He was too subtle of mind to outright tie Jack to the bedposts, but his purposes with this little game were clear enough.

Jamie would be expecting him to tease and play coy, maybe use his teeth on those lovely thighs or his tongue on any of the very inviting targets right in front of his nose. Jack could play that hand, or seem to. He set his tongue to a languorous swirly course from root to tip of Jamie's prick. He finished with a flickering lick to the head and looked up at Jamie, coy as you like, from under his lashes. Jamie was showing a bit of agitation, a pretty flush on his cheeks, but he still had his temper in hand, as it were. Jack tried again, stern to stem this time, and James gasped and then moaned when Jack transferred his attentions to his balls, flicking with his tongue, taking them in his mouth, and sucking. Jack leaned back, blew against the wet skin, and laughed at James' shivering response.

"You best keep yourself in control," Jack said, and he paused to play with Jamie's lovely cockhead for a time.

"I am not the one constrained," James said in what the casual listener would take for his usual drawing room drawl.

"No, love, but you did leave the window open."

Jack took Jamie's prick inside his mouth, relishing the heat, the smell of him, the taste of him. He could do this slow and teasing coy, he could have Jamie begging for him to finish, had marked that feat achieved more than once, but there was no challenge for Jamie in that game. Jack sucked him hard and fast, riding James' thrusts when he stopped trying to hold himself back, taking him deep enough to nearly choke on, but not too much, never quite going too far. He knew a trick or two with his tongue, and he used them all. And a few he'd made up on the spot.

Jamie thrashed about like a wild thing, no one holding him down, nothing curbing his tongue but his own stubborn will. He was near rending the linens with his clutching fingers, and Jack worked him harder, got a little careless with his teeth. Jamie bowed up under him, strung taut, the sound of ragged breathing the only signal of his release.

Jack slumped back on his heels, leaned against James' leg while he got his own breath back under control. He was aching for release; his prick hard and proud, but he would not give up the win for a fleeting bit of satisfaction. He got himself standing without even aid of an elbow and clambered onto the bed, listing first one way then the other, arms outstretched like a drunkard walking the railing, swinging wildly to keep his balance. He crawled up the bed, laid himself down on Jamie's goose-down pillows and fine linens. Jack appreciated a fine set of bedclothes, although in his experience, there was little difference in an English gentleman's sleeping arrangements and those of an expensive whore's, barring perhaps, the colour of the bed curtains.

Jack tucked his hands under the pillow, temptation safely stowed away for now. "Whenever you're of a mind to return the favour, James, I'll be here." Jack Sparrow had never been made to beg, but he was willing to let Jamie give it a try.


End file.
